


The Choice To Be Seen

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Batfamily (DCU), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Forgiveness, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Magic, Protective Siblings, Secrets, Sibling Love, Swearing, Transformation, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: The wizard was on the ground, whimpering, and standing over him were...three Nightwings.“What…?” Robin began.He was interrupted by one of the Nightwings. “Yes! Praise the Lord!”He hugged one of the others, who stiffened and tried to push him off. The third Nightwing sank to the floor and hugged his knees silently.Robin said again. “What?”When Dick gets split into three aspects of his personality, suddenly parts of himself are revealed that he’d kept hidden for years...
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Everyone
Comments: 49
Kudos: 361





	1. What?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i am we](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271943) by [call_me_steve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve). 



> “Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.” — Brené Brown
> 
> Advisors and scholars will tell you that history is a narrative of strength. They will recount stories of the rise and fall of nations and empires. There will be stories of armies, battles, and decisive victories. But this isn’t true strength — it’s merely power. I now believe true strength is found in vulnerability. In forgiveness. In love...I ask you and your brother to reject history as a narrative of strength, and instead, have faith that it can be a narrative of love. - King Harrow, The Dragon Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightwing has been split into three parts of his personality. Batfamily, react!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic isn't set in any particular point in time, just sometime after Bruce came back from the timestuff.   
> No batcest in this fic. Though Jason has a small crush on Dick and has to babysit a sexually promiscuous version of him there is not even a hint of a relationship between them. The focus of this fic is on Dick, his megaton of issues and how the family helps him, so there’s no room for romance.  
> Unbeta'd so let me know if you spot anything!  
> :D

Another night, another manic weirdo with a gimmick causing minor trouble. This one had a staff and gaudy costume; in addition to the usual delusions of grandeur as if everyone and their mother hadn’t already tried the same tired ‘make people worship me’ plans.

Nightwing snorted at Robin’s cutting assessment.

“It’s true. We’ve stopped at least three other staff-wielding simpletons in as many months.” Robin asserted in a tone that someone who didn’t know him might interpret as sharp. Nightwing heard the pleased undercurrent though, which made his grin deepen. 

“Sorry man!” He called down to the wizard, who was coughing from Robin’s smoke bomb. “Robin has a point: this whole thing has been done before, you might want to find something more original.”

“Insolent children!” The wizard spat as he tightened the fastener of his cape, made loose in the flailing he’d been doing to try and avoid the bat’s attacks.

He’d been using his - stolen - staff to temporarily alter people’s memories and then trying to convince him that he was the ruler of the city. Fortunately the staff seemed to require physical contact with the person and at that time of night, the wizard had only managed to confuse and scatter a group of partygoers. 

“My will is stronger than yours. The staff requires true strength from the beholder!” He lifted it above his head. “Witness my power! Oof!”

He stumbled at Nightwing’s escrima stick smacking into his stomach. The staff slipped in his grasp and Nightwing darted in, making a grab for it. Yelling, the wizard held on which caused a scuffle, Nightwing trying not to hurt the man too much.

Robin rolled his eyes.

Before he could do anything else though, there was a bang and a flash of white light.

Wincing at the afterburn on his retinas, Robin lowered his arm and blinked. And then blinked again.

The wizard was on the ground, whimpering, and standing over him were...three Nightwings.

“What…?” Robin began.

He was interrupted by one of the Nightwings. “Yes! Praise the Lord!”

He hugged one of the others, who stiffened and tried to push him off. The third Nightwing sank to the floor and covered his ears.

Robin pulled himself together. “What happened?”

“The best thing ever, little D!” The excitable one responded before shooting his grapple and swinging up to the nearest roof.

“Hey! Come back!” The stern Nightwing ordered, in what Robin recognised as his ‘Batman voice’. The excitable one just laughed: the joyous sound taking on a disconcerting quality echoing around the alley. 

The stern one sighed and turned to Robin. “Can you call this in and get back this one to the Cave?” He indicated to the still moaning wizard wanna-be and silent Nightwing. “There’s no point interrogating him for the reversal until we’re all together again.”

“But what happened?” Robin insisted.

Stern Nightwing’s lips pressed together briefly. “Personality split. I’ve got him,” he indicated with his head in the direction of the runaway, “look after that one.”

Robin nodded, agreeing with the logic even if the sight of the Nightwing rocking on the ground disturbed him. Stern Nightwing chased after the other one and Robin was left with a pathetic criminal and…

Ignoring sad(?) Nightwing for the time being, Robin tied up the wizard and informed Oracle. She showed usual restraint in her reaction and contacted a League magic-user to contain both the wizard and the staff. They didn’t want any more incidents. 

Luckily Zatanna was available and appeared within a few minutes. She took in the scene, eyebrow raised. Her expression softened when she saw Nightwing though. No, not Nightwing, just part of him. Scared Nightwing? 

Robin related the events and listened to Zatanna questioning the imbecile. Predictably, he couldn’t explain what had happened and was sketchy on where he’d ‘acquired’ his magical stick.

Zatanna sent him somewhere, promising to find out exactly what had happened and how to reverse it.

“Good news though: this staff doesn’t seem very powerful. I don’t see this lasting for more than a few days. Hopefully you’ll snap back to normal soon.” She addressed Scared Nightwing.

He looked up at her and managed a small smile. Zatanna kissed him on the forehead and he blushed, uncurling a little.

“I’ll be in contact.” She told Robin and then disappeared.

Swallowing, Robin forced himself to look directly at Nightwing. He seemed to be staring into the distance, looking less afraid than before, but still vulnerable. Damian’s heart clenched.

He called upon his experience with weepy victims; though he wasn’t the best at comforting people, he’d gotten better over the years. He crouched down and put a hand on Nightwing’s shoulder.

“There, there, Grayson. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Nightwing’s gaze snapped up to him. He didn’t say anything but Damien recognized the look of someone who wanted to trust you but was still unsure.

“Let’s get back to the Cave. You can have some of Pennyworth’s hot cocoa.”

Nightwing stared for another few seconds before nodding and standing shakily, his usual grace missing. Damian had to swallow a lump in his throat. The silence, the raw emotion without even an attempt to reassure Damian; this was not _his_ Nightwing.

They took Robin’s cycle, Robin radioing ahead to let Alfred know the situation. Scared Nightwing clutched tightly onto him as they sped along and Robin grit his jaw.

This was only temporary, just a few days.

…

Spoiler huffed a sigh. She never really liked stakeouts - even with company it was still a lot of watching and waiting. Black Bat didn’t shift from her position in front of the scope. They’d been watching the office building where the gangsters were meant to be meeting for a few hours and nothing. 

Steph didn’t know how Cassie could stand it. Well, okay, she did know, but she didn’t understand it.

“Soon.” Cassie murmured.

“I hope so.” Steph replied, stretching her limbs as much as she could without emerging from her hiding spot.

Suddenly, a shout from behind drove them to their feet. As Steph turned though, she realized it had been a shout of joy from Nightwing. He somersaulted onto their roof.

“Hey girls! What are you doing?”

Steph and Cassie frowned at each other.

“Stakeout. We talked about it earlier.” Steph answered.

Nightwing looked past them at the building. “Oh yeah, well, that’s boring. Wanna race? Loser buys everyone else ice cream?”

Steph and Cassie exchanged another look.

“Nightwing,” Cassie began, “are you feeling okay?”

“Uh,” he went into a handstand, “yeah, why?”

Someone else landed on the roof. Another Nightwing? The first Nightwing meeped and rolled to his feet, ducking behind Black Bat. Not having that, she shoved him in front of her.

“No fair!” He pouted.

“You’ve had your fun. Now get back here.” The second Nightwing addressed the first.

“Dun wanna!” The first one whined, crossing his arms.

“What’s going on?” Steph asked. “Which of you is the real Nightwing?”

“Magic.” The second Nightwing explained, mouth flat and unamused. “And technically we both are.”

“I’m the fun one!” The first Nightwing declared. “Come on Black Bat, just to Wayne Enterprises and back. I’ll give you a head start…”

“You’re distracting them from the stakeout.” The second Nightwing chastised. “We need to get back to the Cave. Now.”

As the Nightwings argued, Steph went on the comms. 

“O, we’ve got a situation here.”

“The multiple Nightwings?” O asked, the sound of typing in the background.

Steph confirmed, watching the ‘fun’ Nightwing trying to creep away without the other one - the responsible one? - noticing. Black Bat noticed though.

“Stop.” She said. 

Fun Nightwing staggered back against the low wall dramatically. “Betrayal! Such cruelty! How will I ever recover?”

Steph smiled a little at the theatrics: when had been the last time Dick had joked around like that?

“Come on, I’ll race you to the cycle. First one back drives.” Responsible Nightwing offered.

“Deal!” Fun Nightwing shouted and the two set off.

O said over the comms. “Really?”

Responsible Nightwing replied. “Hey, I know myself.”

Steph and Cassie looked at each other.

“Should we go back too?”

“Negative, stay on your stakeout.”

Steph huffed and reluctantly joined Cassie back in position.

…

Red Hood was grinding a thug’s wrist bones under his heel when he got the message from O. Feeling like his work was done, he kicked the guy in the head to knock him out and grappled away. A few rooftops over, he checked his phone.

_ >Available as a Nightwing wrangler? _

He frowned. What the Hell did that mean? Sure Nightwing had his fair share of intervention needing moments, but those were more sitting on him until he slept or taking his tech away until he ate or shaming him into cleaning his gross apartment. None of those things Jason had much skill or patience for. 

As he was puzzling it out, he heard: “In your face, sucker!”

“Nightwing?” Jason turned and saw the BlueBird sailing through the air onto Jason’s roof. 

He rolled and leapt up running. “Hood!” 

Jason looked on, brain feeling slow. “Hi?”

Nightwing twisted and threw a batarang at...Jason bugged: another Nightwing?

The second guy ducked and yelled. “Are you insane?”

“Uh, what?” Jason tried to interject.

The first Nightwing just laughed. He was almost level with Hood as he asked. “You got any grenades?”

“No explosions!” The chasing Nightwing shouted.

Having enough, Hood drew out two handguns, pointing one at each Nightwing.

“Whoa!” The second cried, screeching to a halt.

The first one stopped running but merely tilted his head. “I didn’t know we were fighting again. I thought we were cool. What gives?”

“What’s going on?” Jason demanded.

“O didn’t tell you?” The reckless Nightwing asked, standing on one leg and stretching the other up over his head. 

Jason blinked before mentally shaking himself. “Not the details.”

“Wizard we were fighting split us into three. Robin is taking the third to the Cave and I am trying to get this asshole back there too.” The second Nightwing explained. He sounded like Dick-as-Batman. Jason would call him...Mr Responsible. Eh, it needed work but it’d do for the moment. The other Nightwing arched into a backbend, his legs doing the splits in the air. 

He didn’t sound at all out of breath as he whined. “But it’ll be booorrriiiiing. We’ll have to do tests and discuss strategy and blah, blah, blah.”

He twisted his body into different shapes as he talked, occasionally lifting a hand and turning 90 degrees.

By this time, Jason had lowered his guns and turned on the shared comms. “O, when you said ‘Nightwing wrangling’...”

She confirmed the double’s - or triplet’s - story and Hood sighed. “I don’t have time for magical shenanigans.”

“Go.” Mr Responsible ordered. “I’ve got this.” 

He stalked up to Circus Boy who saw him coming and tried to get away still on his hands, flailing his feet out to ward away attacks. 

“Nooo!” Circus Boy cried. “Red Hood, I’ll give you a hundred bucks to shoot him in the ass!”

That gave both Mr Responsible and the Hood pause. Mr Responsible glanced back and after a beat, Red Hood slowly holstered his guns. When the good Nightwing turned back though, Hood quick-drew one and shot a rubber bullet into one, perfectly round buttock.

Mr Responsible gasped and Circus boy cackled - righting himself and leaping onto the edge of the roof.

“Bullseye!” He whooped.

“Hood, stay with him.” O said suddenly and seeing Mr Responsible’s sour expression, Hood didn’t need any encouragement.

He got out his grapple and followed Circus Boy. Over the comms, he heard Mr Responsible confirm he’d take his cycle back and that Circus Boy wasn’t required for the debrief.

“Hey! Let’s go clubbing!” Circus Boy suggested on a private channel.

“Let’s not.” Jason replied.

“Come on Hood! When was the last time you let your hair down?” He flicked his own head as he said it, causing Jason’s lip to twitch in amusement.

“I don’t dance.” Hood replied as they came to a stop. He recognized it as the roof of one of Nightwing’s safehouses.

“You don’t have to! We’re going as civilians anyway so you don’t have to worry about your _scary reputation_.” Fun Nightwing waggled his fingers during the last part.

Hood crossed his arms but did consider it. He was basically done with his patrol and the opportunity to get some blackmail material for when Goldie was back to normal was very tempting. He was alone with what seemed to be the spontaneous, reckless version, who likely could be talked into any number of embarrassing situations.

“I’ll buy you a hundred bucks worth of shots…”

Red Hood scoffed. “Even I couldn’t handle that many.”

“I’ll get the fancy ones, you know, the ones with gold in and stuff.”

“No snooty places.” Jason declared.

Fun Nightwing grinned. “So you’re in? Great! Let’s go to my fashion safehouse!”

Shaking his head, Red Hood followed, nerve endings tingling in anticipation.

…

Pennyworth had hot tea and cocoa waiting for them when they arrived back at the Cave. Damian had to tap Nightwi- no, Scared Nightwing’s arms to get him to let go.

“Good evening, sirs.” Pennyworth greeted. Damian took a mug with a nod, though most of his attention was on... _him_.

“Master Dick?” Pennyworth urged.

Grayson approached slowly, an infinitesimal smile on his lips. “Hi Alfred.”

“Cocoa?”

“Thanks.” He took one gingery, then hovered awkwardly as if not sure he was allowed to sit.

Damian looked away, instead getting up the patrol report template. Pennyworth started talking quietly to _him_.

B and Red Robin were abroad following a trail, due back the following night. Robin heard on the comms that Stern Nightwing was returning while Todd was babysitting Excitable Nightwing - a task Damian didn’t envy him. As much as the quiet, traumatized-looking Grayson unsettled Damian, at least he was showing some emotional control. 

He seemed calmer at that moment; sitting on an office chair and slowly sipping his cocoa. As Damian watched he brought the mug up to his lips and took a small sip, eyes closing in enjoyment. That, Damian recognized from Grayson, though it was rare for the man to do it more than once in a row - usually he’d be distracted by something or be launching into a conversation.

Damian had reached the part of the report when the wizard’s staff had caused this whole problem. A flash of light had been all he’d seen. Damian looked to the Nightwing near the console...what to call him…

“Nightwing.” He decided finally.

The now-content Nightwing blinked and then began rolling his chair over.

“What happened, to the best of your understanding, when the staff hit you?”

Nightwing frowned. “Light, and then... I could breathe.” His brow furrowed even more. “Everything was loud and bright. Too much it was...overwhelming.”

“Tt.” Damian supplied, unsure what to make of that halting description. It certainly didn’t seem useful and it wasn’t like Grayson to speak in such a disjointed way.

A roar came from behind them and Nightwing’s cycle drove in - parking beside Robin’s.

The difference between the two iterations was stark; Damian noted the long, purposeful strides of Stern Nightwing.

“Good, you’ve started on your report.” Stern Nightwing commented.

Damian bristled but bit back a snappy comeback in favor of watching the two Nightwings interact.

Scared Nightwing had retreated into himself, as if anxious he was about to be reprimanded. Indeed, the expression on Stern Nightwing’s face wasn’t at all friendly...it looked more like disgusted. 

His lips pursed for a moment before he ‘suggested’. “You should go lie-down in our room.”

Comparing the two, even with masks, Damian could see Scared Nightwing was exhausted - just from sitting down.

“It’s okay. I’ll do our report.” Stern Nightwing went on.

Damian doubted that had been the other’s concern, but after an anxious pause, Scared Nightwing nodded and went to the changing room.

“Any word from B?” Stern Nightwing asked, turning to the Batcomputer.

“Not yet. They’re still dark.”

Nightwing nodded and began his own report. Damian had questions but they were all forestalled by a ping from his phone. 

He opened the message and saw it was from Grays- the excitable Nightwing. It was a photo of him and Todd outside a club: Grayson’s top was brightly-colored and he had glitter on his face, meanwhile Todd looked vaguely constipated. That made Damian smirk.

Still.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to allow your...counterpart to run around like this?”

Nightwing shot him a sharp look, glanced at the offending picture and then replied in a level tone. 

“He’s selfish; that includes having a survival instinct.”

“I was thinking more about your reputation.”

Stern Nightwing muttered. “Yeah well, he’s hard enough to control when we’re in the same body.” 

Seeing Damian’s eyebrow raise, he cleared his throat. “It’s Jason I’m more worried about.”

“Novel.” Damian snorted.

It was Nightwing’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

Damian explained. “That anyone would have to be concerned _for_ Todd.”

“I’m always worried about him.”

“Really? I think he can look after himself.”

Nightwing turned in his chair to face Damian. “But is he happy?”

Irritated by how earnest Stern Nightwing had suddenly become, Damian replied. “Who cares?”

Growing uncomfortable under Stern Nightwing’s gaze, Damian crossed his arms. “Oh sorry, yay for family.”

“Hm.” Nightwing turned back to the console. “If he’s not back by morning I’ll go out and get him. Likely he just needs to blow off steam.”

“Tt.”

“If you’re done with your report you should go and get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired.” Damian replied reflexively. Standing straighter, he went on. “Plus, we’re not sure what other effects the magic might have on you.”

Nightwing assessed him a moment before inclining his head. “Point. And it _is_ earlier than normal. You can help me research the staff then.”

“Don’t trust Zatanna?”

With a shadow of a smile, Nightwing replied. “Backups and failsafes, Dames. Backups and failsafes.”

…

“Why do you have all of these eyesores in a safehouse?” Jason asked, lip curling as he held out a sequined pair of short shorts like it was diseased. 

“For undercover work!” Funwing shouted from inside the closet.

Jason snorted and dropped the shorts. “I ain’t wearing any of this shit!”

“You already look sexy. Just leave the helmet behind.” Funwing suggested, coming out in painted-on leather pants and a shiny baby-blue crop top.

Jason choked and tried belatedly to turn it into a cough. It wasn’t like he was unaware of Dick’s body but it had been a long time since he’d seen the man really flaunt it. A _really_ long time.

Funwing didn’t seem to notice, bouncing over to the mirror to mess with his hair. “You got cash? We haven’t had the chance to top-up the emergency funds in this place.”

“I thought you owed me.”

Dick, no Funwing, grinned. “Never fear. Just get us to an ATM and I’ll handle the rest. I meant for the taxi.”

For a moment he was a little unbalanced by the devilish smile, but then Jason mentally shrugged. He threw on another, less conspicuous jacket than his Red Hood one, smug that it was a little tight over his shoulders.

The taxi ride went fine - there was bobbing to the radio but nothing too energetic. Jason even approved of the club: not too student-y, not too upmarket but also not one he frequented on Red Hood business.

Funwing’s excitement was also a little infectious. Jason had also noticed Dick had applied some glitter around his eyes and mascara on his already luscious lashes. Not that Jason made a habit of thinking about Dick’s eyes or anything.

Once they were near the club, Funwing did visit the ATM and came back with a large amount of cash; Jason didn't ask how, nor where he planned to put it all.

The club was packed full of twenty and thirty-somethings drinking, dancing and doing other things. As promised Dick bought them shots and beers, flirting with the bartender, the woman next to them at the bar and...Jason?

 _Should winking really be classified as flirting?_ Jason asked himself, trying to push down his teenage - except not really cos he should be old enough to know better - crush. No, this was just Dick’s natural affectionate behavior turned up to eleven. His leaning close and twinkling eyes were just signs of how excited he was. He’d moaned to Jason about how annoying Stern Nightwing was to live with, so Jason couldn’t really blame him for wanting to cut loose.

Jason refused the offer to join the dancing, content to lurk in a corner and catch glimpses of Dick in the crowd. Wow, Jason blushed and looked away, his brother did have some uh, raunchy moves.

A woman came over to Jason and struck up a conversation - as much as you could talk with the bass thumping through your skull. It had been a while since he’d been out and about and _not_ working, so Jason indulged a little, though he excused himself when he realized he’d lost sight of Dick.

“I’m with my, uh, friend.” It was weird to go clubbing with one third of your brother, right?

The woman shrugged, going back to her friends and Jason pushed off the wall to find the party animal. 

Venturing outside to the back alley, he saw his plan to get quality blackmail material had paid off. Goldie on his knees in an alleyway behind a nightclub, oh Jason could just taste the potential favors he’d be able to scam off him.

He slipped behind a dumpster and focused on thinking up things he’d want Dick to do, rather than listen in. Luckily he didn’t have long to wait. Huh, either Funwing had been gone longer than Jason had thought or this guy went off really fast.

Funwing wiped his mouth as he got to his feet, grinning and helping the random guy put himself away, chucking the used condom over his shoulder. Jason could see that his dark hair was mussed, a beginning of a hickey on the side of his neck and his smile...yeah, he’d definitely gotten off before.

The pair made out briefly before the dude went back inside. Dick crossed his arms and lent against the wall.

“Don’t tell me it’s midnight already.”

Jason steeled himself, quipping as he straightened and walked up. “How will he ever find you again? A deep throating from every eligible bachelor in Gotham?”

Annoyingly unconcerned that Jason had caught him in a compromising position, Funwing tilted his head consideringly. “I never pegged you as a prude.”

“I’m not! I’m just not a slut for anything that moves.” 

Something shifted behind those blue eyes, though Funwing just shrugged. “To each their own.”

He made to go back in but Jason caught his elbow. “I should get you back.”

Funwing pouted and whined. “No fair! I’ve only got started! Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve gotten laid?” 

“Like two minutes.” Jason retorted, willing himself not to blush.

“And before that it was like two years! I need more than a quickie in an alley!”

Jason waved a hand. “I don’t need to hear about this.”

“I agree! Enough talking!” Funwing tugged his arm free, slipping back inside.

Jason growled to himself and considered. Go back inside, drink more and babysit his _older_ brother? Or go sit on a rooftop and wait until the SOB stumbled out?

He shivered in a brisk wind and scowling, went back inside. 

...

Black Bat and Spoiler returned to the Cave after an uneventful stakeout. Cass had been able to feel Steph’s frustration against her skin for half the night, so was ready for some alone time before bed.

“Well, that was a waste of time!” Steph moaned as she took her mask.

The stiffer Nightwing glanced over with an assessing expression.

Not on guard, exactly, but a little unsettled by the unknown element of someone who was just a part of the Nightwing she knew, Cass added. “Short report.”

Steph agreed and then got out her phone. “At least some of us are having fun.” 

Damian rolled his eyes as Nightwing gave a small huff.

“It’s unbecoming!” Damian declared. 

Steph grinned. “You don’t approve of fun?”

Cass tuned out Damian’s rant about propriety and dignity, finishing her report quickly. She loved her family but sometimes she needed a break from the noise. Also the Nightwing situation was unsettling. She hadn’t read a threat from either version she’d met, but her skin still prickled at the sight of them when they _were so obviously not_ the man she knew.

At some point Steph managed to interrupt Damian to ask Nightwing. “So how exactly are you...split?”

He answered. “I’m responsible for upholding Duty, both to the mission and to the family. The one with Jason is Self-Interest, he takes care of our needs and keeps us alive, when not doing handstands on rooftops.”

“And the third?”

Stern Nightwing looked uncomfortable for a moment. “It’s hard to explain. I guess he’s our Subconscious?” 

“You’re not sure?” Damian asked, looking skeptical. 

Nightwing shrugged. “I don’t really see a lot of him.”

Cassie could tell Damian wasn’t placated by that explanation but Steph moved the conversation on. 

“So what do we call each of you?”

“I don’t care what you call the others, but I’m Nightwing,” he instructed before muttering, “since I’m the only one that does any work.”

“We can work with that.” Steph replied.

Report done, Cassie took her leave, changing out and slipping upstairs. The house was quiet, Alfred having retired earlier. 

On the landing of the bedroom floor, Cassie hesitated. The third Nightwing, or she supposed, the third Dick, was there, standing in the corridor. He was dressed in sleep clothes, barefoot on the plush carpet, and he was staring at one of the many photos that lined the walls. 

He started as he sensed her but settled once he saw who it was.

“Hey.” He greeted, voice hoarse.

Now closer, Cassie could see his bloodshot eyes and mussed hair. He looked like he’d woken from a nightmare. If the Nightwing in the cave was to be believed, this one was the subconscious, likely the most emotional of them all. Drawing on the many times Dick had comforted her, Cassie waved in greeting and inclined her head towards the photo in question.

It had been taken at Steph’s latest birthday: all of the bat children were there, pulling silly faces except for Damian who was scowling, albeit less fiercely than usual. Cassie remembers being particularly happy that day and from her memory, Dick had been too. At one moment, she’d seen him looking over at all the others, eyes a little misty. Although there were still tensions and arguments, the relations between the siblings were now probably the best they’d ever been, at least to Cassie’s knowledge. 

“Had a bad dream. Couldn’t sleep again.” Sad Nightwing explained, turning back to the photo.

Cassie heard what he didn’t say. 

“Helps?” She asked, nodding at the picture.

“Yeah.”

She threaded her hand in his and he smiled softly, pressing their shoulders together. They stood there silently for a few minutes. Then Cassie yawned. Sad Dick shook himself a little.

“You should- uh, _we_ should go to bed.” He corrected at her pointed look, his expression warm and relaxed. 

Feeling more centered, she nodded and saw him to his room.

“Thanks.” He whispered before going in.

Cassie went to her room and quickly got ready for bed. Once she hit the pillow, she fell asleep almost immediately and dreamt of the whole family singing ‘Happy Birthday’.

…

Despite himself, Jason ended up having fun. He and Dickie, because calling him ‘Funwing’ in Jason’s head got old, started talking to some women from a bachelorette party and they drank, danced and made out in dark corners. 

Jason wasn’t really built for one-night stands, finding them too messy and stressful without much of a pay-off. He did enjoy kissing though and with his bro...or a version of his brother at his back, he let himself get more drunk than he usually would. Pleasantly buzzed, he nodded as Charlie, the woman he’d been making out with, excused herself to the bathroom.

He spotted Dick back at the bar so navigated his way over.

“Not going to follow up?” Dick asked, indicating where Charlie had gone and holding out a beer.

Jason took the beer and shrugged as he drank some. 

Dick grinned. “I forgot how shy you were.”

Jason frowned. “Excuse me?”

“About sex and stuff. You’re a real romantic soul Jaybird.”

Jason swore at him but without any real heat; he felt too loose at that moment to really take offense.

“I like it.” Dickie declared. “It nicely offsets the whole badass thing.”

“So you admit I’m a badass?” Jason smirked.

Dickie was completely serious as he answered. “Jason, you’re one of the coolest people I know.”

Jason slow-blinked, sluggish mind trying to wrap itself around that.

“Huh.” He said finally.

“I’m gonna dance.” Dickie recovered his party energy. “Coming?”

Jason waved a hand ‘no’ and watched Dick weave through the crowd. It was thinning a bit so he could keep an eye on Dick shimmying. He checked his phone and saw there were a few messages. The Hellspawn had apparently turned into a 19th century nursemaid: demanding Jason reign in the ‘excitable’ Nightwing. Jason snorted.

Babs had asked:

_ >You guys going to turn in anytime soon? _

After glancing up at the dancing figure in the background, Jason sent back:

_ >I think he runs on Energizer Bunny batteries _

Babs’ response was quick:

_ >Responsible Nightwing says your version is Self Interest. Anything at your place he’d be interested in? _

Jason thought - which took a while with the booze haze and all.

As if sensing he was struggling, Babs messaged:

> _The word ‘sleepover’ should do it._

Jason grimaced but conceded. He did want to sleep. Happily, Dickie chose that moment to return to the bar.

“You alright?” He asked, not even out of breath.

“Yeah, just tired. Let’s go.” Jason tried.

Dickie pouted. “But it’s still early!”

“Early in the morning.”

Dickie’s pout depeened.

Jason sighed. “We can have a sleepover.”

Like someone had flicked a switch, Dick’s expression brightened. “With a blanket fort?”

“What? No, we’re not ten.”

“Cuddles?”

Jason choked. “No.”

“Just until I go to sleep?” Dickie leaned in closer, eyes impossibly wide.

_Damn Bambi._

“Pleeease.”

Jason folded his arms. “You can get a two minute hug.”

“An hour!”

“Three minutes.”

Dickie huffed. “Maybe I’ll go home with someone else.”

“Fine! Ten minutes.”

“Deal!” Dickie shook Jason’s limp hand and pranced over to the exit.

Jason grumbled but decided to take his losses. Chances were Dickie wouldn't even remember the night once all was said and done.

At least, here’s hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the idea for this after reading the amazing fic by [potato_post_community](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potato_post_community/pseuds/potato_post_community), where Damian is divided into five little Ds!  
> It's amazing, go check it out!  
> :D


	2. Outer Conflict

Hmmm...warm...and...person? Jason sighed softly and burrowed a little deeper into the arms holding him. The grip tightened slightly before the person snorted. Then began snoring.

Jason’s eyes snapped open. He’d recognise that sound anywhere. As a kid he’d been delighted to discover that Goldie snored. He’d brought it up every morning of that ski trip Dickie bird had taken him on, cataloguing each of Dick’s increasingly annoyed responses for posterity.

In the present Jason jerked away and sat up. They were in Jason’s bed: under the covers but fully clothed. Dick whined and rolled over, pulling the cover over his head.

Jason ignored him, wincing at the tightness across his forehead. He drank some of the bottle of water on the nightstand, thanking his past self. Tentatively, he went about his morning, freshening up and getting started on breakfast.

There were a few messages on the group chat, Jason grimaced to see the various thumbs up and winky faces at Dick’s picture of them outside the club. Whilst it hadn’t been as bad as he’d been fearing, he still hadn’t mined any viable blackmail material out of the night. In the light of day, threatening to tell people about Dick sucking a guy off in an alleyway didn’t seem very classy. And hey, it wasn’t exactly news to anyone that Goldie was...uh...promiscuous.

When breakfast was almost ready he went to shake his guest awake. It took some poking and stripping the cover off the bed for Dick to finally get up. Once he’d nibbled on some eggs though, he perked up. Because of course he did.

“So what are we doing today?”

“ _I_ have some casework to do. _You_ are going to go and bother someone else.”

Dickie pouted. “I could help! I’ve watched Nightwing do it enough times.” He adopted a mock-serious expression, stroking his chin. “Yes, this looks like the work of the Riddler. Let me tippity-tap on the computer and pull up some cross-referencing file-thingies.”

“Very convincing.” Jason deadpanned. “But I’ll be fine. Why don’t you go challenge Demonspawn to a water fight or something?”

Dickie tilted his head but ultimately shook it. “Then Nightwing would find me and drag me back.”

“B isn’t even there.”

“He will be.” Dick said in a dark tone.

Jason blinked. He hadn’t known that those two were on the outs.

“Can’t I just stay here? I’ll be quiet.” Dick attempted to promise.

Jason just raised his eyebrows.

“Quieter than normal?” Dick tried. He huffed when Jason’s expression didn't change. 

“Don’t you have a million friends you could bother?”

As Dick perked up and listed his friends that were on Earth and most likely to hide him _and_ be fun at the same time, Jason considered him. He’d initially assumed that this version was reckless and pure impulse, but he had demonstrated planning and long term thinking. So it wasn’t just immediate desires but overall wellbeing and enjoyment.

“...and being around Star is always a recipe for awkwardness.” Dick was saying.

Something popped up in Jason’s consciousness and he found himself asking. “Had it really been two years since you’ve...you know?”

Dickie didn’t seem to think it was a weird question, instead waving a dismissive hand. “Eh, more or less. Hey! That’s a point.” He got out his phone.

“You’ve got a booty call list?”

Dickie winked.

“Ew.” Jason said, putting down his fork.

“You asked.” Dick shrugged.

“Well, that explains why you’ve been so uptight lately.”

Dick snorted in agreement. 

“Good to know for the future.” Jason smiled, happy he’d gotten something useful. “Thanks for this. I can’t wait to interrupt your next lecture to tell you to take a night off and get some.”

Dick huffed again. “Ah, sorry. It’s not so much a lack of opportunity.”

Jason tilted his head. “Waiting for the One? Now who’s-”

“Nah, it’s just hard to have sex with Sad Sack having a panic attack every five minutes.”

Jason stared. His mind supplied that ‘Sad Sack’ must be another version of Dick, but...panic attack?

“Hey Mel!” Dick had called someone while Jason had been thinking. “You at work?”

He jumped off the bar stool and wandered into the living space. Jason tried to forget that last part. He’d done his brotherly duty by taking care of a third of the man, he didn’t need to worry about the rest of him.

There was a rapt knock on the door. Nightwing. Jason contemplated not letting him in before remembering that he could just break in if he really wanted to. So he opened the door.

Nightwing was dressed in motorbike leathers, holding two helmets in his hands. Damian was beside him, looking bored.

“Jason.” Nightwing greeted seriously. “He still here?”

Jason nodded and stood back, letting them in. Dickie was done with the phone call and gasped at the visitors.

“No! Come on!”

“Yes.” Nightwing replied. “You’ve played truant long enough.”

“Ugh, do you ever listen to yourself?”

Jason leaned against the counter and got out his phone to record the interaction. He’d been too taken aback to properly enjoy the scene the night before and wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to save this for future enjoyment.

“Here, put on the helmet so no one sees both of us together.”

Dickie crossed his arms and stomped his foot.” No!”

“Tt.” Damian walked past Nightwing and snagged some coffee.

“Just half a cup.” Nightwing instructed, though his tone was mild and Jason noted that Damian obeyed.

Jason knew the kid preferred tea, so felt proud his coffee apparently passed muster. That feeling soured as Damian wrinkled his nose at the inside of the fridge. “No soy milk?”

Jason didn't bother replying, concentrating on his big brothers arguing. 

Dickie was searching under the coffee table. “I don’t believe it! No hidden guns?” He directed at Jason.

Nightwing stiffened. “Stop being so childish.”

“I will when you stop being a prick.”

Jason and Damian snorted.

Dickie jumped onto the back of the armchair, somehow perching comfortably on the thin wedge. “When was the last time you did anything for me?”

Nightwing scoffed. “Excuse you? I’m the one who does all the work. You never help.”

“I keep us alive, don’t I? Who reminds you to eat after you’ve been swinging all night? Who ducks when you’re too busy looking for weapons or goons or whatever?”

“It’s not exactly selfless if you’re saving yourself too.”

“It’s more than you’ve ever done and shut up about the Mission. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m _free_ from all of that for the first time in like, fifteen years. Like Hell am I going back to the manor to be bored to death by ‘protocol’ and ‘the greater good’.”

“So what? You’re going to go racing, eating junk and shagging dawn until dusk, are you?”

“For starters.” Dickie winked.

Nightwing squared his shoulders. “Do you really want me to go to plan B?”

Dickie was on instant alert. “You bastard.”

Nightwing just raised an eyebrow.

After a long pause, Dickie sighed. “I’ll come willingly if you do something for me.”

Relaxing even as he rolled his eyes, Nightwing relented. “Yes we can get ice cream on the way over.”

“No. I want a holiday.”

There was silence for a beat before he went on. “When all this is over, I want to go to a beach, any beach and _not work_ for a month.”

Nightwing’s jaw tightened. “We can’t do that.”

“We haven’t been on a holiday for six years!” Dickie cried, arms waving angrily and not even wobbling on his perch.

Nightwing frowned. “That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah?” Dick crossed his arms.

Nightwing opened his mouth and then closed it again. Another beat of silence and then he sighed. “Fine. We can go for a long weekend-”

“Four weeks.”

“One.”

“Three.”

“One and a half.”

“ _Two_ and a half.”

“Eleven days.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twelve.”

“Deal!” Dick leapt over the coffee table and couch, holding out his hand. Nightwing shook it and Dick cowed. “Twelve days and a half!”

Scowling, Nightwing bit out. “Petty asshole.”

Dickie just grinned, getting out his phone. “I hear Barbados is nice this time of year.”

Jason stopped recording. “Great. Now everyone get the Hell out of my apartment.”

…

After handing the criminals off to the local authorities to handle extradition back to the States, Batman and Red Robin retrieved the batplane and began the flight home. Once safely in the air and with autopilot on, Batman turned the comms back on.

“Mission Complete. Report.”

O answered. “More or less normal here. No movement on the gang Spoiler and Black Bat are monitoring and no new developments on the open cases.”

Despite the words, Batman could hear something in her tone.

“What happened?”

“No one’s hurt.” She said quickly. “N and Robin had a run in with a magic-user last night. He was mostly a hack but the staff he was using does contain some power.”

“Are they alright?” Red Robin asked. Batman’s heart rate ticked up.

“No physical injuries, though Robin might be in a constant state of outrage for a while.”

“O.”

“Sorry B. They’re fine, but there has been a complication. A case of duplicates, well versions of N. Robin is helping Nightwing 1 get Nightwing 2 back to the manor. Nightwing 3 is already there with Agent A.”

Red Robin checked the group chat. “Huh, which one is this?”

“If you’re talking about the club photo, it’s Nightwing 2 or ‘Funwing’ as Red Hood dubbed him.”

Batman’s heart rate began to climb down again. “Are any of them dangerous?”

“Not from what I can tell. They’re all still Nightwing, just distinct aspects of his personality. Either way, they’ll all be accompanied at all times.”

“We’ll be back in a few hours. Keep us apprised.”

“Roger.”

“Have fun with that.” Tim commented.

“You have business outside Gotham?” Bruce asked, knowing that Tim sometimes lent his services to old teammates. He didn’t like when his children worked outside of the city for a lot of reasons, but had learned from bitter experience that he couldn’t stop them if they really wanted to. Before Tim could answer, his gaze was caught on something on his phone. His eyebrows raised. Bruce fought the urge to lean in and look at whatever Tim was reacting to.

“Uh, Jay’s sent a video of Dick arguing with himself?” Tim tilted the phone so both of them could watch as he played the video.

The contrast was startling: although in appearance they were almost identical, the double’s mannerisms and the way they talked were so different. 

Bruce was reminded of the little boy who’d come and livened up the manor, swinging on chandeliers and cackling as he slid down bannisters. The way he perched on furniture and tumbled everywhere; how he’d insisted on taking breaks and having fun. _B, you have to try this! I’ve never been paintballing, will you take me this weekend? Come on, stop working for five minutes and…_

Tim’s huff of laughter pulled Bruce back into the present where the duplicates had just finished haggling. The video ended on the more childlike Dick beaming and the sterner one scowling. Something in Bruce’s chest twinged.

“That’s a point. I think _I’m_ overdue for a holiday.” Tim commented as he tapped out a response to the group.

Bruce hummed, also trying to remember the last time he’d taken a break from work. He soon gave up to work on his report. 

It wasn’t often that he sat down and thought about family dynamics or the characteristics of his children, but after completing the report, he had an hour or two to spare.

If ‘Funwing’ reminded him of Dick as a child, then the other Nightwing must have been heavily influenced by Bruce himself. He’d recognised the tone and even some of the phrases that he used. Bruce remembered with terribly clarity Funwing’s complaint: _I’m free for the first time in fifteen years._

Dick had always been eager to please and a natural mediator; as Robin he’d often been able to gently cajole where Bruce had only had violence or intimidation at his disposal. Had Bruce, in his attempt to guide Dick’s hatred and anger, accidentally forced Dick down a path he didn’t want? He’d questioned his decision before, though the focus had usually been more on Dick’s physical wellbeing and safety. Now he wondered if by not presenting Dick with any healthier coping mechanisms, he’d shaped his son into someone who was working against his own very nature.

_I’m finally free..._

There were some things he’d been meaning to say to Dick, so many conversations worth. He added that conversation to the list. Therapy had actually helped him sort through things in his head and recognise unhealthy behaviour. He still struggled to express his feelings but he was determined to start mending the relationships he’d fractured.

On the flight over he’d had a heart to heart with Tim, who’d been very surprised. Bruce thought that it had gone well, however. Tim had seemed a little lighter, more confident throughout the mission. 

“You did good work.” Bruce said belatedly. “You deserve a break.”

Tim blinked before rallying. “Uh, thanks. You do too.” He smiled tentatively. “Maybe we can all go on one.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “Too many of us in one place is a recipe for disaster. We attract enough trouble on our own.”

Tim nodded and then ventured. “I liked this - just you and me.”

Bruce agreed. Working with Red Robin was always easy; their minds worked in such a similar way that they hardly needed to speak out loud.

“Perhaps when N takes his holiday, he can take Robin with him.”

Tim grinned.

They spent most of the rest of the flight in a comfortable silence, Bruce rehearsing the many apologies he owed his eldest child.

…

Dickie had badgered Damian into tumbling with him in the manor’s gym, promising to show him advanced moves to shock and awe. Always most concerned with efficiency, Damian hadn’t been impressed by that reasoning, but had acquiesced anyway. 

Nightwing had requested Damian stay with the excitable version. “I know you’d rather do anything else, but there’s no one I trust more to keep him in line. And hey, think of it as endurance training: nothing will be unbearable after a morning with him.”

“Your attempts at manipulation are so transparent.” Damian had replied.

“So you’ll do it?” Nightwing had smiled exactly like Grayson when he was being lightly teasing.

Damian has swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “Tt.”

Nightwing had dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, chum.”

So Damian was half-listening to Dickie - and what a ridiculous name - explain some complex set of moves.

“Aren’t you the selfish one? Why would you want to teach me anything?”

Dickie laughed and said as it was obvious. “It’s more fun to fly with family.”

“Whatever.” Damian folded his arms. 

The lesson did prove stimulating though. Damian had to concentrate in order to do the moves and Dickie’s enthusiasm proved to be contagious.

“Yeah! You got it!” He cried.

“It wasn’t hard.” Damian deferred, glad that for all his other faults, Dickie didn’t seem to be a teaser as he didn’t mention how many attempts Damian had needed to get it right.

“I’m hungry. Want to see if Alfie has any snacks?”

“Fine.”

“Hey, have you ever swung from the chandelier in the foyer?”

Damian put up with the inane questions all the way to the kitchen. Pennyworth was just taking some cookies out of the oven and preemptively warned Dickie not to take any. Damian was surprised that the overgrown child obeyed, but then he supposed that only fools willingly crossed Pennyworth. The butler indicated to some sticks of celery they could eat instead. Although he pouted, Dickie still ate some, chewing obnoxiously and chattering away. Pennyworth didn’t seem to mind, nodding along and occasionally asking questions or interjecting with dry asides. 

At one point Dickie went to the bathroom and Damien couldn’t help his curiosity.

“And I thought Grayson’s normal mode was irritating.”

Pennyworth hummed. “You never knew him at your age.”

A wistful air diffused around the butler. 

“Did he really swing from the chandelier?”

Pennyworth’s lips twitched. “I hope he’s not giving you any ideas.”

So that was a ‘yes’. Damian puffed up his chest. “Never fear, Pennyworth. I am too dignified for such antics.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, we’ve at least got to play hide and seek!” Dickie announced as he danced back into the room. “I bet you can’t stay hidden from me for more than an hour.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You must be joking. I am not a child.”

“Okay one: you literally are, and two: I’m flattered by your awe of my superior seeking skills.”

“I see what you’re doing.”

“Come on Damian! I can show you all of my old hiding spots!” His expression fell a little. “Most of them I can’t fit in anymore.”

“I don’t need your help.” Damian snapped.

“So you’ll play?”

In the slight pause that followed, Pennyworth added. “There’s still an hour until lunch.”

“Fine.” Damian sighed.

Dickie whooped and began rattling off the rules as he led the way to the starting point in the foyer. He graciously let Damien go first and to Damian’s dismay, found him in five minutes.

“Told you I knew all the good spots!” He grinned.

Damian grit his jaw and dutifully counted as Dickie skipped away to take his turn. Once Damian reached eighty though, he had a brainwave. As soon as he finished counting, he went straight to the lower study where Titus was napping. There was nothing to be learnt from the game; Damian was already an expert in evasion and detection. 

He spent a pleasant time with Titus and Pennyworth soon called him in for lunch, reporting that Bruce and Drake had just returned.

“Where’s Master Dick?”

“Playing hide and seek by himself.”

Pennyworth’s eyes narrowed. “If you would be so kind as to fetch him.”

Cursing that he hadn’t considered that outcome, Damien weighed up the option of simply calling the manchild. Though that would mean suffering through the self-congratulatory crowing of the ‘victor’. 

Happily, he encountered his father in the hall and asked him. “Where did Grayson like to hide as a child?”

Bruce blinked but evidently decided not to question Damian’s motives for asking.

“There’s a trick panel in the wall just by the first floor stairs in the East Wing. You’ll know it by-”

“Thank you, father.” Damian nodded curtly and headed in that direction.

Even more happily, Dickie seemed so unassuming that he didn’t suspect Damian had help, instead praising his little brother’s detective skills. Damian pressed his lips together at that. He did _not_ feel bad for giving up the game immediately.

Lunch was himself, Father, Drake, Cain, Brown and the three Nightwings. Although his father so obviously wanted to analyse and question the Nightwings in the Cave, he evidently trusted the other bats’ initial assessment of ‘no threat’...or perhaps he simply knew better than to try to excuse himself from one of Pennyworth’s formal meals. When the butler laid out the dining table only life or death situations were accepted as excuses.

The first few minutes were highly awkward as Drake gaped at the Nightwings and Bruce watched them discreetly. Dickie chatted mostly to himself - as no one answered beyond Brown smiling politely.

“Dick or Dickie, either one is fine.” He was telling Brown. Nodding to the serious one he said. “He wants to be ‘Nightwing’, he can have it.”

Damian noted his father’s jaw tightening minutely. Interesting.

“And that one’s Sad Sack.”

The nightwing in question didn’t look up as he was being talked about, instead staring at his glass of water.

Nightwing frowned and after a short hesitation, Stephanie suggested. “How about BlueBird?”

The sad one finally reacted, looking up at her mutely.

“What you want?” Cassandra asked.

Glancing at her, looking vaguely confused, he spoke. “Uh, BlueBird is fine.”

The girls smiled and hesitantly, BlueBird copied them. Damian had to look away from such a soft, uncertain expression on Grayson’s face. He was no stranger to his brother’s gentler embraces and friendly overtures, but there was something different about that smile. Something...vulnerable, like a tiger’s underbelly.

Father then began questioning Nightwing about the split and differences between the three.

Dickie tried to involve Damian in his simultaneous conversation with Stephanie and Cassandra, but Damian just snarked and instead took to watching BlueBird out of the corner of his eye. He also rolled his eyes at Drake surreptitiously filming or taking photos.

“I’ll call Zatanna after this, see if she has any updates.” Nightwing was saying.

“Zee’s coming?” Dickie interjected. “She’s great! Have you met her?” He asked the girls. “She can do the funniest trick!”

Nightwing cut in. “Right now she’s busy trying to get us back to normal.”

“It only takes a few minutes!” Dickie protested.

“I said no.”

Dickie crossed his arms and glared. Damian once again caught sight of his father’s face flickering with some emotion. Surprise? Regret? It had been too fast to identify but Damian mentally noted to follow up later.

Dickie sulked, muttering something that sounded rude under his breath. When Nightwing readily agreed with Bruce that all the Nightwings should be supervised at all times, Dickie coughed “sycophant!”

Drake and the other children fought to cover up laughs as Nightwing glared and father...Damian was beginning to get frustrated. What specifically was bothering his father about the Nightwing triplets?

After lunch, Bruce, Nightwing and Robin went down to the Cave while Stephanie, Cassie and Dickie went to do something frivolous no doubt. As they worked, Damian considered that he preferred Nightwing out of all of three: he was the most businesslike and serious - no high energy or disturbingly distraught silences. 

Still, he couldn’t compare to Grayson.


	3. Shining A Light

“Tim? Can I talk to you?”

Tim hid a wince. He didn’t really want to have a heart-to-heart with anyone right then, let alone an unnaturally quiet version of Nightwing. But he’d always been a people pleaser. He’d just listen, to get a general idea; he could always fake getting a call or something.

“Sure.”

Sad Nightwing led him to the roof. The sky was clear and the air crisp but not too cold. The city of Gotham sat squat in the distance, even more grim and grey contrasted against the green trees in the grounds.

Tim hadn’t been on the roof for a long time and found he’d missed it. Usually it was quiet; good for contemplation.

BlueBird sat down cross-legged, one knee bouncing a little and fingers fiddling in his lap.

“I wanted to apologise for…”

“You’ve already done that.” Tim couldn't help but cut in; thinking of all the shiny excuses that had done nothing to ease the ache of rejection, of self-doubt.

“No, not for that. For how we’ve acted after.” BlueBird corrected softly.

Tim frowned. While sure, Dick’s occasional messages asking how he was and asking to hang out had been annoying - as well as reminders of how short memories seemed to be - they’d been easy enough to ignore or deflect with excuses. Dick was just doing his brotherly duty; he didn’t really want to spend time with the hanger-on, the pretender, not when he could be training Bruce’s real son, coaxing Cass out of her shell or slowly but steadily bringing Bruce and Jason back together.

Recently, the frequency of the messages had decreased, giving Tim the idea that Dick was close to giving up entirely. He hadn’t been sure how to feel about that.

“Nightwing is in charge most of the time.” BlueBird explained. “His way of showing love is checking up on people, lending an ear, offering help; even if it's not needed, or wanted.” He added, offering a strained smile.

Interested as to where it was going, Tim sat down. Looking out at the view, BlueBird continued.

“He doesn’t get any other expression of love. He doesn’t understand what it’s like when someone hurts you so bad that you can’t forgive them. Even if you want to. Nightwing is the embodiment of Duty. Forgiveness and second chances, it’s all part of Batman’s Code; it’s part of being a big brother and the son of a father like Bruce.” 

BlueBird turned to Tim. “But it’s not fair to expect it from any one else.”

Tim really wasn’t ready for that conversation, so could only nod to show he understood.

BlueBird swallowed. “We hurt you and we can never take that back. How you deal with that, how you want things to go moving forward...” he cut off, looking away to take a deep, shaky breath.

There it was. Tim’s stomach churned. He hated Dick’s tears - it was partly why he’d been avoiding him. One shimmering teardrop and Tim would fold; agree it’d been a difficult situation and Damian hadn’t known any better when he’d tried to murder Tim. 

_All’s forgiven, let’s be brothers again!_

Even if he wasn’t sure he could ever…

“...that should be your decision and only yours.” BlueBird finished, having recovered his composure.

 _What?_ Tim blinked. That was unexpected.

“If you don’t want us in your lives, we’ll back off. I promise.”

Tim’s brain whirred. Dick Grayson was voluntarily stepping away without resolving a rift? This crazy man had practically hounded Jason for a year, trying to bring him back into the fold through the power of hugs - and dammit if it hadn’t worked. Albeit in a roundabout way.

What was really going on here?

“Cutting your losses?” Tim ventured, even though he didn’t quite believe Dick would do that or was even capable. His own personal feelings towards Tim notwithstanding. 

Dick’s expression crumpled for a second, but then he steeled himself. “We love you.”

Tim was jolted into remembering that this _wasn’t_ Dick, only part of him.

“We love you so much. We’d die a thousand deaths if it would make you happy, but I don’t think that’s what you want from us.”

BlueBird’s eyes watered a little, but his voice was steady. Tim leaned back against the stone, working the puzzle. 

After a few minutes he asked. “You said Nightwing didn’t understand not being able to forgive, but you do?”

BlueBird met Tim’s eyes and nodded once. Tim believed him, based on his expression alone.

“Who was it?”

BlueBird looked away, staring out at Gotham in the distance. “Bruce.” He said finally, so quietly the wind almost blew the words away.

“Wow, really? I thought…” Tim trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. 

There was that strained smile again. “I told you. Nightwing’s in charge most of the time and he can’t help it. Forgiveness is part of who he is. Maybe he doesn’t always agree with B or he wouldn’t make the same choices, but at the end of the day…” He waved a hand.

Tim found himself nodding. That made sense - in fact, Tim recognized that in himself, the willingness to take things from B he wouldn't from others. B was such an authority, he knew what he was doing and he’d originated so much of the Mission. Yeah, Tim understood.

“But you don’t.”

“But I don’t.” BlueBird nodded. “I know what it’s like to pretend everything’s okay, all water under the bridge, explained and excused away, while the wound still festers. To feel like your hurts don’t matter.”

He swallowed and then confessed in a whisper. “I can’t do that to you.”

Tim felt a lump in his throat and he had to blink hard. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say, not even sure why he was so emotional. He had to acknowledge the preciousness of the gift he was being given - not the offer to respect his autonomy but the understanding, the selflessness. 

BlueBird wasn’t making this offer believing eventually the space would change Tim’s mind; he made it in the knowledge that day might never come. And it hurt him. BlueBird had struggled through his own turmoil. It wasn’t simply a gesture but true sacrifice.

So he _did_ love Tim.

Tim had never felt so raw and vulnerable and _loved_. He blew out a long breath, barely noticing that he’d been holding it. His fingers dug into his thighs as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

BlueBird didn’t say anything, gaze turned back to the horizon.

When he felt calm enough, Tim replied. “Okay.”

“You’ll think about it?”

“Yeah.”

BlueBird sniffed and slowly hugged his knees into his chest. Tim closed his eyes, trying to purge that image from his mind. After a moment, he gave up and gave in to his heart’s call. 

He put a hand on BlueBird’s shoulder. “No matter what I...no matter what, I’ll always be your brother. I love you.”

BlueBird stiffened but otherwise didn’t move. Tim squeezed his shoulder and BlueBird turned his head, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“You know that, right?” Tim asked. 

BlueBird sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. His smile was small but genuine. “Yeah. I know.”

Tim swallowed and then forced himself to his feet. He hesitated when BlueBird didn’t move.

“Are you coming?”

His brother’s gaze slipped back to Gotham’s distant rooftops. “In a minute.”

Feeling unbalanced, Tim nodded and started toward the door. In the doorway, he paused, looking back at the hunched figure. Biting his lower lip, Tim shot off a text. He waited until he heard voices in the corridor before leaving.

…

Steph really liked Dickie. He was light in a way that Dick sometimes approached but never quite reached. Although excitable as a child, he would still listen to others; laughing at Steph’s jokes and asking questions about her life.

Cass had begged off nails in order to work on an assignment for school so Steph had taken her time deciding what to paint on Dickie’s nails. He only specified bright colors, easy to please beyond that. She’d chosen neon pink with a glitter sheen. It suited him.

Receiving Tim’s message had worried her, but as Tim came down the steps he quickly explained that he thought BlueBird needed some company.

Dickie looked annoyed but didn’t protest. Steph went up and felt a melancholy settle over her as she saw the figure curled up on himself.

“Hey.” She greeted.

His eyes were red but he didn’t look like he was about to cry anymore.

“Hey.” He answered.

“Mind if I sit?”

He shook his head and she joined him. Dickie huffed and started doing stretches by the door. BlueBird and Steph sat for a long while, looking at the city. It was an unusually clear day - even for summer - so Steph could just make out the main buildings, including Wayne Enterprises.

“What are you thinking about?” She tried.

“How peaceful it is here.”

“Don’t do well in crowds, huh?” She asked, aware that everyone needed alone time, even Dick Grayson.

“Not used to being out.” He replied.

Steph frowned. “What do you mean?”

She thought back to the debrief. What had it said about BlueBird? He was the subconscious. Well, if he wasn’t surface-level, the aversion to noise made sense.

“Ah, I get it.” She saved him from answering. After a beat, she asked. “How do you like it? Being out?”

“It has its perks.” To Steph’s delight, he smiled a little.

She beamed back. “You want one of Al’s cookies?”

“Always.”

They stood, still smiling at each other, but then BlueBird stiffened. Steph followed his gaze to see...no Dickie.

“Oh crap.”

They went straight to the kitchen, theorizing Dickie’s stomach would have led him there. No dice.

“Eh, how much trouble could he really get in?” Steph asked.

BlueBird shrugged, nibbling on a cookie.

Steph sighed. “Let’s look around a bit more, he probably hasn’t gotten that far.”

The gym was empty as well as the studies, TV rooms and bedrooms. Cass confirmed she hadn’t seen the cheery Dick. Steph was about to suggest they run down to the garage to check no bikes or cars had been ‘liberated’ when they heard quick footsteps and a door slam. They quickly found Dickie in Dick’s room, lying face down on the bed.

“What happened?” 

He looked up at Steph’s question and leapt up. “BlueBird! Take it!”

BlueBird flinched back as Dick bounced over, hands outstretched. “What?”

“The hurt! Take it!”

“Maybe explain what happened?” Steph suggested, looking between the two.

Dickie’s bottom lip jutted out. “Damian was mean to me! He called me a circus freak!” He showed them is phone but too fast for Steph to actually read the message.

BlueBird blinked and Steph felt torn between mild amusement at Dickie’s childish demeanour and sympathy for being insulted by the haughtiest child known to humankind. No one escaped that barbed tongue of his and Dickie did look genuinely upset.

“Take it.” He repeated, eyes bright with burgeoning tears. 

BlueBird stuttered. “It...I don’t know how it…” He flapped a hand between them weakly.

And how did one articulate the normal workings of one’s brain?

“It _hurts_!” Dickie insisted, voice even higher and plaintive.

“I don’t know. Why don’t _you_ deal with it for once!” BlueBird snapped.

Both Steph and Dickie were taken aback and there was a taught moment of silence.

“I...I don’t know how.” Dickie said eventually. Tears momentarily avoided due to his shock.

“What do you usually do?” Steph asked BlueBird.

He just shrugged churlishly. Dickie’s eyes began to shine again.

“Hey, you know Damian didn’t mean it.” Steph tried.

Dickie looked back at her doubtfully.

BlueBird relented. “Come here.” He sat himself and Dickie down on the bed. “The hurt. It feels like acid in your chest, right?”

Dickie sniffed and nodded.

“Okay, well, take a deep breath, drawing all the acid into your lungs.”

Dickie followed the instructions immediately without question.

“Now when you breathe out, the acid will blow out of you. Ready? Go.”

Dickie whooshed the air from his lungs, looking both determined and a little red in the face.

“Better?” BlueBird asked; a little dispassionately, Steph thought.

“Yeah, a little. Thanks.”

Steph was going to have to remember that trick. Dickie still looked subdued so gingerly, Steph sat down on his other side. She figured she was welcome when he pressed his shoulder against hers.

“You know he loves you, right?” She asked. “Even though he doesn’t say it. Everyone does.”

“Jason called us a slut yesterday.” Dickie said.

Steph’s mouth opened but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

BlueBird sighed. “Like that’s the worst thing he’s ever said to us.”

Wow, Steph was _not_ equipped to help them deal with _that_.

“Okay, well I love you.” Steph declared. 

She took Dickie’s hand and his face brightened. “I love you too.”

They hugged. Over Dickie’s shoulder, Steph saw BlueBird looking at them with a weird expression.

“Come on.” She beckoned.

Dickie unhooked a hand to drag BlueBird into the hug. He was stiff with tension but after a few moments began to relax. Steph made a mental note to check in with Dick when he was back to normal. She knew that he had a high tolerance for Damian’s bratty behavior - not to mention mischief from the rest of them - but evidently it was more through emotional control rather than being genuinely unaffected.

When they all drew back, she suggested they paint BlueBird’s nails.

“Yeah! You should get sparkles!” Dickie said, light in his eyes dancing.

BlueBird looked between Dickie’s excitement and Steph’s encouraging smile.

“Okay.”

Dickie whooped and led the way to the polish.

…

Damian was in a bad mood. Bruce held in a sigh and wished, not for the first time, that Dick was available to handle him. Dick always knew what to sway to cool Damian’s temper or help heal whatever hurt had the boy lashing out. 

Nightwing had stated that none of the versions were fit to patrol, even himself.

“Dickie has the best reflexives. I might forget to duck.”

Feeling queasy at that idea, Bruce had agreed that Nightwing should stay in the Cave and relieve O for the night.

“You don’t want to take a night off?” Bruce had asked Nightwing, mostly joking as whatever form he took, he knew his son.

“Apparently we’ll be taking a vacation after this is all over.” Nightwing had rejoined, rolling his eyes.

Bruce remembered the negotiation video and his heart ached a little. Intellectually, he knew that Dick took after him when it came to prioritizing the mission over his own needs but seeing a physical manifestation of this trait was unsettling and, well, sad.

Bruce had to ensure Dick kept the promise to himself. He needed to check in with all of his children. Tim was right; they could all use some R and R.

Nightwing had surprised him though, by mentioning that Barbara hadn’t had a break in months. Bruce remembered - belatedly - that Nightwing wasn’t just obsessed over the Mission, but concerned with the family as well. Bruce didn’t know if _he_ was split that those two characteristics would be in one body. He shuddered to contemplate a Bruce separated from the love for his family. 

Dick would always be better than him, because he cared about both equally. Though, as Bruce recalled Nightwing double checking Robin’s grapples, he thought family definitely came first.

Likely the only reason he wasn’t talking to Robin over the comms to council him was due to not wanting to distract them. As it was, Bruce had half his mind on the recent gang activity that might flare up and half trying to think of what to say to Damian. 

He and Robin stopped on a rooftop overlooking the docks. There was a planned shipment Batman had gotten wind of. The contents weren’t clear so they were keeping out of sight until it came in.

Beside him, Damian shifted slightly and Bruce came to a decision.

“How was your history test?”

Not as useless a question as ‘how are you?’ but still not great. Bruce was grateful for the cowl as Damian turned to stare at him. 

“I thought there was no personal talk policy on patrol.”

“There’s a ‘no distractions’ policy.” Bruce bullshitted. “As long as we don’t lose focus, a little small talk is fine.”

Damian still eyed him suspiciously but did answer the question. “As with all classes in your American education system, History is laughably easy. I received full marks, of course. What is the question you really want to ask?”

“Just checking in.”

“Because N can’t? At least, _my_ N.” Damian observed astutely.

Bruce muted his com. “It’s okay if you find this situation unsettling.”

“It’s temporary.” Damian replied begrudgingly muting his comm before continuing. “No one is injured and it’s not like I wasn’t already aware of Gray-N’s various character traits.”

Try as he might Damian couldn't quite hide his agitation. Bruce didn’t want to force the issue so just hummed non committedly. 

“Why? Are _you_ ‘unsettled’?” Damian asked, an edge to his voice.

Bruce’s first instinct was to deny it but he _had_ started this heart-to-heart. “Yes. A little. It’s one thing to know something and another to see it right in front of you.”

His words settled into the silence between them. Then...

“I didn’t know parts of him disliked the others.” Damian admitted.

Bruce hadn’t either but looking back it seemed obvious and he could see plenty of clues. He wondered how much of that he’d personally contributed to. After all, prioritizing the Mission had been a lesson he’d deliberately and repeatedly imparted.

“How do you feel about that?” Bruce asked, partly to stop his brain from torturing him.

“How I feel is not relevant.” Damian snapped, folding his arms.

“It is to me.”

“I’m not the one split in three.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be affected.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Their comms buzzed.

“Activity on the border of Black Mask territory.” Nightwing reported. “Doesn’t look too bad but the nearest police squad is already on a call.”

Batman unmuted his comm. “On route.”

Robin was already moving and Bruce made a note to try to continue the conversation later, even as part of him sighed in relief.

…

Tim had left the manor and retreated to his apartment. He had lots of work to do with Wayne Enterprises and a few open cases. Despite the peace of his empty apartment, however, he couldn’t concentrate. He kept remembering his conversation with BlueBird; one question in particular haunting him: what had Bruce done that Dick couldn’t forgive?

Tim knew what Bruce was like and there were things he’d done to Tim, and the family as a whole, that still rankled but he couldn’t think of an unforgivable thing Bruce had done to Dick specifically. The mystery curdled his stomach.

Having spent a few hours accomplishing just one task, Tim messaged Jason, figuring it could have been something done before Tim’s time. His moody brother was supremely unhelpful so reluctantly, Tim headed back to the manor. 

It was approaching the end of patrol and he hoped to get some time alone with BlueBird. He suddenly realized how much of a golden opportunity it was. Dick was a master at avoidance and ordinarily, getting him to talk about what was bothering him was nigh impossible; the hypocrite.

Alfred confirmed that all the Nightwings were in and following the sounds of a movie, Tim found the group in Steph’s room. One of the Nightwings was asleep, Steph carding fingers through his hair; the other Nightwing was commenting on the rom-com, Cass watching his hands dance as he talked.

She noticed Tim first and held out a hand. There wasn’t really any more space on the bed but when he saw Tim, the happy Nightwing cried. “Timmy!”

He man-handled Cassie onto his lap, her allowing it like a tolerant cat, and patted the newly empty space.

“You’ll hate this! It’s about two spies trying to get with the same woman. You can point out all the inaccuracies and get really mad!”

Tim’s feet began moving without him realizing he’d made a decision.

Dickie’s smile blew away any insecurities lingering in Tim’s heart. Everyone settled back down, Steph and Cassie also smiling at Tim as they caught him up on what had happened so far.

Tim began complaining immediately and Dickie guffawed, eyes glittering. After a really egregious plot point that had Tim ranting for about five minutes, Steph and Dickie in stitches, Tim melted back into the pillows. Dickie put an arm around him.

“You’re my favorite person to watch movies with. Sorry, girls.”

“Really?” Tim asked before he could think better of it.

Dickie looked down at him, brow slightly furrowed. “Yeah. Wasn’t it obvious? You’re hilarious.”

Chest filling with heat, Tim found himself smiling back. 

Dickie’s gaze focused. “Was there something you needed?”

And God, didn’t he sound exactly like the Dick Tim knew.

“It can wait.” Tim answered.

Dickie ruffled his hair and in that moment, Tim forgave him.

A little while later, Tim’s phone buzzed: it was Nightwing.

“You at your place? B and Robin are in need of assistance.” He asked, fast typing in the background.

Tim sat up. “No, I came back here.”

Ninghtwing blew out a breath. “Okay. Can one of you come down and work on comms? I’m going to help them.”

Tim agreed and updated the others. Dickie’s expression went serious and he glanced at BlueBird, who'd woken.

“We should go too.”

“Nightwing will be fine.” Steph waved a hand.

“He’ll jump in front of a bullet or something.” BlueBird said grimly.

All of them went down and suited up, except Steph who volunteered to remain on comms. Dickie and BlueBird wearing an old Nightwing suit and a stealth suit respectively. They sped off; BlueBird clutching tightly to Dickie, Red Robin and Black Bat on their own cycles.

“B and Robin are in Black Mask territory.” Steph updated them over the comms, “B is down and Robin is being overrun by goons. Oh great, one of them has a rocket launcher!”

A few minutes later she spoke again: “Nightwing has arrived.”

Tim felt better that Robin now had help but BlueBird and Dickie’s comments stayed in his head. Would Nightwing be more of a help or a hindrance?

Just as they pulled up, an explosion rocked the alley. Everyone took cover and after the ringing in Tim’s ears began to fade, he forced his stiff limbs up. He seemed unhurt and did a quick check of the others: Black Bat was already stalking forwards and Dickie was helping a shaken-looking BlueBird to his feet.

“Nightwing!” Robin’s shout snapped Red Robin into action. He ran in and took in the scene.

Robin was kneeling beside Nightwing’s prone form, hands shaking where they were hovering over Nightwing’s chest.

“He covered me.” Robin reported as Black Bat bent down to feel Nightwing’s pulse. 

Red Robin got closer and had to swallow bile. There was a lot of gore beneath Nightwing’s head. Black Bat put a hand on Robin’s shoulder. He took a moment to interpret the gesture.

“No!” He cried, flinging his body over Nightwing’s. 

Red Robin could see Nightwing’s chest rising and falling ever so slightly, but...he’d lost too much blood, he wouldn’t make it to the hospital. Red Robin had seen enough death to be able to tell. His insides withered and died, his whole body morphing into an empty chamber where Damian’s pleads for his brother echoed.

Red Robin felt a presence beside him and turned to see Dickie.

“Dammit.” Dickie breathed. 

BlueBird walked around the other side of Nightwing’s body, trying to push Damian out of the way. When he wouldn’t budge, BlueBird looked up at Dickie, who pursed his lips.

“It’s the only way.” BlueBird said and Tim realized what he meant.

“Wait, we don’t know if this’ll work.” He protested through the pounding in his head.

“It will.” BlueBird insisted. 

Dickie looked up to the sky before sighing. He went over, Black Bat moving back to give him room.

“Damian, you have to let us go back together. Then you’ll have Dick back.” BlueBird explained.

Damian looked up at him and Tim had never seen such emotion on his small face.

“Swear.” Damian demanded.

“We swear.” Dickie promised.

Slowly, Damian shifted back and allowed Black Bat to put her arm around him. BlueBird gathered all of the Nightwing’s hands together and closed his eyes. A moment of stillness…

Then a flash of white light.

When Tim blinked away the spots in his eyes, he saw just one Nightwing rising to his feet.

“Grayson!” Damian cried and slammed into him. 

Dick half groaned, half laughed. “Hey, little D! You okay?”

“I am now.” Damian said into Dick’s stomach, still clinging onto him.

Tim let out a huge sigh of relief and as Dick smiled at him, commed Steph to update her. Black Bat went over to help Batman, who was just regaining consciousness. Having recovered his composure, Robin did a check of the goons to see if any needed emergency first aid. Red Robin joined him, though he noted Batman’s grateful nod in Nightwing’s direction.

Once they were all on their feet and the sound of approaching sirens grew loud enough, they went home.


	4. Me Again

The following morning Dick took longer than usual to remember where he was and what had made his head throb uncomfortably. Oh yeah, he had three sets of memories to process.

Groaning, he rolled over and tried to focus on the silk sheets and perfectly firm mattress. The throbbing only increased so he burrowed further into the covers. The night before Zatanna had popped round and given him a once over. She’d warned him that he might feel out of sorts for a day or two but otherwise was back to normal.

Minutes or hours later there was a knock on the door. Dick huffed, only moving when he heard Alfred’s voice. He grunted in reply and Alfred came in.

“It’s almost noon, Master Dick. I thought you could use a late breakfast.”

Despite his aching head, the food did smell good.

“Thanks, Alfred.” He said as he sat up.

“How are you feeling?” Alfred asked as he set the set tray down over Dick’s lap.

“Ah, can I get back to you on that?”

“Well, I believe one third of yourself called your work and took off the next two weeks, so you have some time to recover.”

“Go me.” Dick joked weakly. As nice as a vacation sounded, he was annoyed his care-free version had gone ahead and done that. A break from his job was one thing but he couldn’t just take time off from his night gig and leave the family a person short.

It was strange to remember yourself doing things without fully being in control - though in their line of work it wasn’t a unique experience. He didn’t even want to begin thinking about what his family had intuited by how his different versions had acted.

Flopping back, he sighed.

Alfred lingered. “If I may sir, I would remind you that everyone has multiple aspects to their personality, some more obvious than others.”

Dick looked up at him like a sunflower soaking up the sun’s rays.

Alfred’s eyes twinkled a little and he turned to leave, but not before adding. “You might be surprised by how much you have in common with others.”

He left and Dick’s sluggish mind turned those words over in his head. Then his stomach interrupted and he chuckled.  _ That’s Alfie alright _ .

After eating he felt better, even if his head remained heavy. He showered and got dressed, hesitating in his doorway. What was he going to do? It was a weekday so Bruce would be at work, Damian at school and apparently Dick himself didn’t have anywhere to be. 

Maybe Tim would have some time between his classes...Dick’s mind shuddered to a halt as he remembered.

Lump forming in his throat, he retreated back into his room, closing the door and leaning his forehead against it. He knew that version had made the offer from a good place and no way would he ever consider rescinding it but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. How could he look after Tim if he wasn’t allowed to contact him outside of official business?

_ If he doesn’t want you to… _

Dick let out a long sigh and then almost jumped as his phone pinged. Despite his resolution, he scrambled to look at the message, hoping it was from Tim.

_ >Some of your crap ended up at my place. _

Jason had a special skill of perfectly conveying his tone through text messages; Dick had no trouble hearing his voice in the words. What was interesting though was the hidden meaning. The fact Jason was telling him that, instead of throwing the things out, was basically an invitation. Dick wracked his recent memories, searching for a reason Jason might want to talk.

_ Oh.  _ He blushed.  _ Oh no _ . 

_ >Ok, be there in an hour. _

He shot off the message and then face planted back on the bed.

Not long later, he gathered the strength to get up and was rewarded by Alfred The Saint pulling cookies out of the oven as he slinked into the kitchen.

“Are those Jason's favorite?” Dick asked, sniffing the air and approaching the tray.

“Oh, are they?” Alfred asked, smacking Dick’s hand away.

Dick pouted but brightened when Alfred took out a cake tin. He hugged Alfred around the middle.

“Thanks, Al! You’re the best!”

As proper ever, Alfred patted Dick on the back a few times. “You’re welcome, Master Dick.”

Together they put the cookies in the tin and Dick set off, feeling more prepared to see his brother.

Jason gave Dick a considering look when he opened the door, but otherwise didn’t comment on his appearance.

“I bring gifts!” Dick held up the cake tin. 

Jason just grunted and then said. “How you fit so much crap into those leather pants, I don’t want to know.”

Dick pouted at the lackluster reaction to the cookies before grinning. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Jason said, before waving at the kitchen counter to a small pile of items.

Dick put the tin down and looked them over, noting that some things weren’t actually his.

“A whistle?” He asked, picking it up and turning it over in his hands.

“I think some chick gave that to you in the club.” Jason supplied, opening the tin and grabbing a cookie.

Dick pocketed everything and then tried for casual as he said. “So, uh, I guess I should say thanks for babysitting me. Or, part of me.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse nights.” Jason said, leaning against the fridge and nibbling on his cookie.

Dick smiled. “So you had fun?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jason snorted.

Dick’s smile just widened and Jason mock-sighed. When Dick grabbed a cookie, Jason’s eyes narrowed.

“I thought those were mine.”

“Delivery fee.” Dick shrugged, eating it in two bites.

Jason’s face scrunched up and he went back to eating his cookie in that odd, dainty way he had. They ate in silence for a while. During the drive over, Dick had tried to think about what Jason might want to talk about. Beyond the unfortunate alley-incident, he couldn’t remember anything else noteworthy from that night and as Jason hadn’t immediately begun trying to blackmail him Dick was stumped.

He waited his brother out.

Finally, Jason rolled his shoulders and not quite looking in Dick’s direction, began. “So, Funwi- uh the version of you that was with me, he uh, said something about not getting laid in a while.”

Fighting a blush - because while usually Dick couldn’t care less about propriety or modesty with his family it seemed a little different - Dick answered. “Yeah, I’ve just been so busy lately.”

Now looking right at him, Jason continued. “He mentioned panic attacks.”

Dick froze and suddenly the memory of himself saying that came back to him.  _ Oh. _

He swallowed, unable to think of a response.

Jason held up his hands. “It’s none of my business and I don’t want to pry. But if you did want to talk about anything…”

Pushing down the urge to snap and run away, Dick forced a smile. “Thanks, Jay.” 

Jason nodded and then turned his attention back to his cookie. “So where are you going?”

“Huh?”

“On your big vacation?” Jason waggled his eyebrows.

Dick groaned. “Oh, well, I should get back to ‘Haven-”

“Oh no you don’t.” Jason interrupted. “You promised yourself, shook on it and everything!” 

He tapped at his phone and to Dick’s shame, brought up a video of the whole argument. It was surreal seeing his lookalikes argue; even more strange to remember how both of them had been feeling at the time.

Once it was over, Dick looked up, mouth open to make some excuse. Jason’s expression - eyebrow raised in challenge, a hint of concern in his eyes - killed the words in Dick’s throat.

“Barbados is a good choice.” Jason teased.

Dick huffed and stole another cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Even  _ you _ don’t care about the Mission that much. What’s the real reason?” Jason asked, eyes narrowed.

As his brother was already onto the scent it would be impossible to throw him off; Dick sighed. “Everyone’s busy and I wouldn’t want to go on my own.” 

Thankfully, that caused Jason to get contemplative rather than snarky. “I’m sure someone could spare a week at least.”

Dick shrugged. For as much as he offered his help where he could, he always found it difficult to ask for help in return.

“What about Timbo?”

Dick barely held back his flinch. Instead he growled. “Jason…”

“Okay, well, whoever you’re gonna ask, might want to do it soon.” Jason said, showing Dick his phone.

It was an email confirming two tickets booked on a flight to Barbados leaving the next day. Dick frowned and Jason gave a shit-eating grin.

“Oh yeah, did I mention you’d left your credit card here?”

Narrowly avoiding Dick’s kick, Jason laughed. “Take Steph or something!”

After some play fighting, Dick gave in and agreed to ask around. The warm feeling in his chest caused by Jason's apparent concern for him going a long way to forgive his brother's meddling. He reclaimed his credit card and headed to his Gotham apartment to pack. If he made the picture of himself and Jason outside of the club his phone background, well, Jason never needed to know.

...

Having liaised with Alfred, Dick picked Damian up from school. Dick hadn’t even bothered asking Bruce to pull Damian out of school in the middle of the semester for a vacation, but he wanted to see his littlest brother before leaving.

Pleased to see Damian exit with some other kids, who he said goodbye to amicably, Dick waved. 

Underneath his light scowl, Damian was pleased.

“Grayson.” He greeted with a nod.

“Damian.” Dick replied in kind. “Shakes?”

Damian huffed. “If we must.”

Hearing the affection, Dick smiled to himself. He drove them to the best vegan shake place in town - 

“it’s the only vegan establishment that offers milkshakes, Grayson” - and they ordered and sat down.

They made small talk, Damian updating him on the latest gossip he was interested in - which wasn’t much - and Dick explaining about his upcoming vacation. 

“I’m glad you decided to uphold your oath.” Damian commented. “Even if it is to the...excitable part of yourself.”

Amused at Damian’s moniker for that part of his personality, Dick cooed. “Aw, you do love me! I accept all of you too, Damian.”

Restraining himself to just rolling his eyes, Damian took another sip of his shake rather than respond. Though in the moments that followed, Dick could sense there was something on his brother’s mind. Pretending to be absorbed in his own drink, Dick gave him some time.

Finally, Damian asked. “Are you content with your life?”

Whatever Dick had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He sat back.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Damian glared, reminding Dick how much the boy hated questions answered with another question.

Raising a placating hand, Dick considered it seriously. “I mean, it’s not perfect but yeah, I’m happy.”

“One of your counterparts expressed concern over Todd’s happiness and it made me question if anyone had recently asked about yours.”

Dick’s eyes prickled. “Thank you, Damian.”

“I am merely fulfilling my brotherly duty.” Damian replied. “If there is anything I can do to make your life more complete, I will be glad to help.”

Oh, wow. Damian hadn’t made him cry in a long time. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Dick managed. 

“No, you’re already the perfect little brother.”

“Well yes, I knew that.”

A giggle burst out of Dick’s mouth and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm down.

“Of course, Dames.”

They finished their shakes and Dick drove Damian home in a warm, comfortable quiet.

...

When Dick got back to the manor, Cassie was out with friends but Steph was in her room. She looked up from where she was reading on the bed and grinned when Dick knocked.

“Welcome back!”

He smiled. “It’s good to be back.”

“Have you seen all the documented evid-”

He waved a hand. “Oh yeah, I’m all caught up.”

“Oh hey! Your nails!” She cried. 

Dick looked down and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Then he realized what she meant: they were unpainted.

“Give me another coat?” He asked.

Happily, Steph got her polishes and they sat cross-legged on the bed. Dick chose blue sparkles and Steph imitated an old English knight.

“You have chosen...wisely.”

Dick chuckled and they chatted for a while as Steph applied the undercoat.

“So, how much do you remember?” Steph asked as they were waiting for the undercoat to dry.

Dick shrugged. “It’s weird. I think I have all of their memories but they're not all in my head at once. If that makes sense?” He eyed Steph. “Why? Is there something you want to ask about?”

“Just wondering how Damian’s been treating you lately.” She said, staring at his nails.

The memory floated into his consciousness. Pushing down the hot flush of shame at his weakness being seen by his family, he swallowed.

“I know he doesn’t mean it.” He answered finally.

“Uhuh.” Steph said, head bent as she uncapped the blue sparkles. “You know sometimes it takes more courage  _ not _ to hide your feelings.”

He stared at her and she looked up. 

After she didn’t back down, he sighed. “Okay, yeah, it hurts sometimes.”

Steph’s lips twitched and she started painting his thumbnail. “Good. I thought I was going to have to make you watch  _ Inside Out _ or something.”

Dick huffed a laugh. “I get it.”

She paused in her work and met his eyes, face serious. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever hurt you without knowing it.”

Her expression warned him not to try to dismiss it so he said. “Thanks, Steph.”

Nodding, she started painting his next nail. “If you ever want to vent about anything, you come and get a fresh coat.”

He looked down at his hand, feeling a little light-headed. “I will.”

By the time all his nails were painted and dried, he felt more centered. He hugged Steph and she laughed.

“Love you too, big brother.”

Outside on the landing, Cassie was standing looking at a picture on the wall. Dick’s mind showed him another memory and he cautiously walked over.

Cass glanced at him, body language open.

“Hi.” He greeted and she inclined her head.

He looked at the picture. It was the same one as before: of Steph’s birthday party. Words bubbled up in his throat but he swallowed them down. When he’d been BlueBird, he hadn’t had a clear memory of the day so the photo had really helped conjure up the feelings of joy and fulfilment. Now he did remember, he felt sorry for the version of him who’d missed out. Closing his eyes, he tried to pull up the best snapshots of that day in his mind; the happy faces, good natured ribbing, all the laughter. He lay them all down and willed them to soak into his subconscious. 

Something touched his hand and he hid a flinch. Cass’s fingers intertwined with his and he relaxed. She pressed their shoulders together and he heard everything she was saying.

They stood there a while, until the sounds of footsteps interrupted and they pulled apart. Dick opened his eyes and took a mental picture of Cassie’s soft smile.

“Alfred said you were up here.”

Dick and Cassie turned to see Bruce standing at the top of the stairs.

Cassie nodded to Bruce and then Dick before going to Steph’s room.

“Yeah,” Dick answered, steeling himself, “I was wondering if you’d have time to talk.”

Something relaxed in Bruce’s posture and he waved in the direction of his study. 

To Dick’s relief, Bruce chose to sit on the couch in the corner, rather than behind his desk. 

“So,” Bruce began once Dick had taken up the chair to the left of him, “how’re you feeling?”

“Uh, my head’s still a little achy but no other side effects.”

Bruce nodded. “Good, good. Dick, I think- oh, sorry, you said you wanted to tell me something.”

“Yeah,” Dick rubbed his thighs once and then clasped his hands together, “there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say for a while now and,” he took a deep, calming breath, “I just need to say it.”

Bruce remained silent.

Gathering his last nerve, Dick continued. “When you fired me as Robin you told me to leave and never come back.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce shift in his seat but mercifully he didn’t say anything.

Dick swallowed and kept his gaze on the coffee table. “I know it was a long, long time ago and neither of us was at our best…” he chuckled wetly, “...and obviously you didn’t really mean it-”

“Dick-”

“Wait.” Dick looked up at him, wincing at the hurt on Bruce’s face but determined to say his piece. “Let me finish.”

After a short pause, Bruce nodded. 

“It hurt.” Dick whispered. He had to look away from Bruce’s eyes. Coughing a little, he went on. “Sometimes when we’re fighting, my anger comes from me bracing for the blow. Because if I’m already mad and on my feet, leaving is that much easier.”

Dick risked a glance at Bruce and saw he’d closed his eyes, but the lines on his face told Dick that he was still listening. 

“You trained me to take hits that would cripple a normal person and get back up again. To keep fighting no matter what. And I have so much to thank you for but my God… I’m so tired of losing people, losing hom- places where I thought I belonged. I just...”

His eyes burned and for once, he made no effort to stop the tears.

“I just want to  _ come home _ .” 

He barely felt his cheeks getting wet as Bruce gasped and opened his eyes. Dick sniffed and met Bruce’s agonized gaze.

Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder and though his vision was a little blurred, Dick could read the question on his face. With a sob he nodded and Bruce hauled him into a bear hug. Desperately, Dick clung on, not caring that he ended up half on Bruce’s lap. In his father’s arms, Dick let himself break down completely. And his father held him together: stroking his hair and whispering apologies and promises to do better.

Later, once Dick’s tears had run dry and his breathing had calmed, Bruce said.

“I am so sorry, Dick. I understand if you can’t forgive me but whether you do or not, I’ll be here for you. Always. And the manor will always be your home.” 

Exhausted, Dick could only nod vaguely and burrow a little more into Bruce’s chest. 

“I know we have a lot to figure out and I have a lot to make up for, but I want you to know that I am committed to doing the work.” 

Dick pulled away enough to look up at Bruce’s watery eyes. Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, Dick nodded.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Bruce kissed his forehead and Dick smiled before curling back into his dad’s chest. 

He felt hopeful.

...

At the airport the next morning though, he was beginning to get a little melancholy. Babs had done her best to distract him with some bantery messages but that didn’t change the fact his phone was full of regretful rejections to his vacation invite. He was standing in the terminal watching a young family struggling to wrangle their children to security. His grip tightened on his bag.

Well, he’d just have to make some friends when he got to the resort. Maybe there’d be some of the guests on the same flight.

Before he could move though, someone almost ran into him.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

Dick had to blink a few times to check what he was seeing. “Tim?”

Tim was wearing a bright T-shirt, board shorts and flip flops, shouldering a large duffel bag. He looked down at himself sheepishly.

“I thought I’d dress for the destination. Though it’s a bit much, right?”

“You’re going on vacation?”

“Yeah,” he frowned at Dick, “to Barbados? At least, that’s what Jason told me.”

Dick’s brain finished putting the pieces together and his stomach flipped. “You...you’re sure?”

Tim’s expression softened, "yeah, I am." Then he gave a weak punch to Dick’s shoulder. “Can’t leave a brother hanging.”

Dick gave an almost hysterical bark of laughter. “Wow, okay, you can never accuse me of being an old man after that delivery.”

Tim grinned and Dick swallowed the lump in his throat.

“So, you ready?” Tim prompted.

Dick smiled and put an arm around his brother. “So ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Did Jason book the tickets after talking to Tim about going too? Or did the batsiblings coordinate so none of them would agree to go and Tim would surprise Dick at the airport? Hmm, I dunno, both sound so plausible!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> :D


End file.
